


HiveswapHunt

by cartesianAmbiguity



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Can you believe it guys I know I can't, Diary/Journal, Hiveswap is finally here, Image Heavy, Only 224 days late, Transcribed from a forum thread
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 16:52:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 3,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12085251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cartesianAmbiguity/pseuds/cartesianAmbiguity
Summary: Day 13:I begin to lose hope. Hiveswap seems so close, and yet so far away. I have secluded myself in my bedroom, firing paperclips out of homemade slingshots at any who dare draw near. My roommate is beginning to grow tired of sleeping in the hall.Or, in which an ill-advised attempt is made to rush the schedule on Hiveswap.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **The following is transcribed from a forum on the Steam Greenlight page for Hiveswap, which has since been deleted with the game's release. A backup was created and can be viewed[ here ](http://steamcommunity.com/groups/rrdoodle/discussions/0/133259956017848235/). While I did write the logs, all of the illustrations were done by the mod of that thread, the illustrious Rugged Reptile, who has informed me that she doesn't have a portfolio for me to link to.**

Day 13:  
  
_I begin to lose hope. Hiveswap seems so close, and yet so far away. I have secluded myself in my bedroom, firing paperclips out of homemade slingshots at any who dare draw near. My roommate is beginning to grow tired of sleeping in the hall._

_I fear that my only hope to reach the blessed day is to rise to godhood and unseat the Godhead Pickles Inspector from his throne. I have hit a minor roadblock in this effort, because no matter how much candy corn liqueur I imbibe, I fail to raise my IMAGINATION to such a state that I may enter the dream world._

_I hear footsteps. If it is the cable company demanding their bills, I may be forced to take drastic action._

_This could be my last entry.  
_


	2. Chapter 2

Day 15:

_I have run out of paperclips, and I believe my room mate is digging sappers to undermine the barricades I have placed at the door. The root beer supply ran out yesterday, and I have had nothing to eat but candy corn and licorice scotty dogs all week. As I write this I am fashioning a rope ladder out of my room mate's tapestries, that I may escape through the window and seek Hussie personally to discover the source of Hiveswap's delays._

_Though I doubt the tensile strength of decorative tapestries and my own knot-tying abilities, the snow on the ground outside looks deep enough that should I fall I will not be overly incapacitated._

_I leave now on my noble quest. This may be my last entry._

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Day 18:

_I am beginning to believe that setting off through the snow with only my laptop and as many licorice scotty dogs as my backpack could hold was not a very well thought out plan. For one thing, I have no sword with which to encourage the release of Hiveswap and/or defeat the many obstacles I am sure to face._

_I have a Swiss Army knife, but it just doesn't feel the same._

_Additionally, I am beginning to suspect that the map to Hussie I purchased through alternatively legal means may actually be a pirate-themed children's menu to some sort of fast food restaurant. This would explain why it has no recognizable landmarks and why I have yet to find any sign of civilization since my departure._

_Finally, and perhaps most confusing, is the perfect wireless connection I have maintained, no matter how far I walk. This is highly perplexing, and warrants further investigation. What has not remained constant, however, is the battery of my trusty machine, which dwindles ever further as I write._

_This may be my last entry._


	4. Chapter 4

Day 22:

_After nearly a week of wandering, I was informed that the wilderness I had so hopelessly lost myself in was actually just the library, that the librarians were tired of my antics, and that I should be going home now. And while this does explain the constant wifi signal, it fails to account for the moose I fought, killed, and ate raw two days previous. I would think that the entire episode was simply a vivid hallucination, the result of licorice overdosage, if not for the fact that I am still using the antlers as makeshift swords._

_I have since recharged my laptop's battery and now, armed with a liberated atlas of North America, seek Hussie's domicile. Hopefully he lives nearby. This book is incredibly heavy._

_This may be my last entry._


	5. Chapter 5

Day 27:

_Today I decided to try to count the scotty dogs I had left in my pack, in order to ration them better. I spread out the atlas and began counting them out onto one of those back pages nobody ever uses anyway. When I had completely covered the atlas and there was no visible reduction in the bag, I decided to pour out the remainder._

_That was three hours ago. Scotty dogs are still flowing freely from my bag, which I have suspended from a nearby tree branch, and I have now created a small hill of licorice-flavored candy. Fearing that I may have wandered into another library, I went to check my atlas, but discovered it was buried under a steadily growing mound of licorice. Attempting to dig my way underneath to reclaim my book was met with the loss of one of my moose-antler swords, whose handle is even now sinking further underneath the pile of edible black dogs._

_My wifi signal is functional, despite the fact that I am clearly in the middle of a forest. I would commend the manufacturers on their empirically excellent reception design, but I can't seem to find any sort of label, only a silhouette of a scotty dog._

_The pile is growing. This may be my last entry._


	6. Chapter 6

Day 29:

_Escaped the Scotty Dogs, sans one atlas, one antler-sword, and one horrifying extradimensional scotty-dog backpack._

_I feel that I may be better off without that last one anyway._

_The issue remains, however, that I have no clue where I am and have no food supply, now that my hubris-fuelled attempt to understand the superdimensions of my backpack has led to its loss. Nevertheless, I must soldier on, through all adversity. Hiveswap demands nothing less._

_Upon further consideration of the Hussie problem (i.e., where I can find the elusive orangeman) I realized that the only point of reference I have to his location is from his own autobiographical entries from within the chronicle of Homestuck. I may only assume that he has ensconced himself safely away within his own work of fiction, separated from reality and my bloody vengeance by layers of fantasy and ironic bullshit. Little does he know that I, too, know the ways of Homestuck, and even now am conducting searches through Amazon for spare copies of Sburb. Once I come into possession of a copy, I shall transport myself to the Medium and travel to the Furthest Ring, where Hussie presumably still is hiding out after the end of Act 7._

_Given that I am attempting to summon the apocalypse, there is a chance that this may be my last entry._


	7. Chapter 7

Day 31:

_I have successfully ordered myself two copies of Sburb, being well-informed on the negative effects of a single-player session. All four discs delivered today via a very helpful passenger pigeon with the Amazon logo tattooed on its wings. The only obstacle in my way now is the fact that I have no home to base myself in, and that my laptop's battery has once again dwindled alarmingly low._

_I am remedying the first issue through liberal clear-cutting of the surrounding forest, to build a rudimentary shack. As to the second, I simply hope that my laptop lasts long enough to get into the session, where I am led to believe that battery power becomes a non-issue._

_The Amazon pigeon, whom I have named Plutarch, seems to have decided to stick around, if the letter of resignation I watched it hand to a second, far inferior-looking bird just five minutes ago is any indication. Smart bird. Given his adeptness of beak and talon, and his overall friendliness these past two days, I believe I may have found my host player._

_My laptop power is nearly depleted. This may be my la_


	8. Chapter 8

Day 33:

_I was about to begin installation of the Sburb software when my laptop died mid-entry. Further time was wasted jury-rigging a lightning-rod to my small shack, to which I attached my laptop's charger. I was mostly finished with the second step when the first lightning bolt hit._

_The battery of my laptop diverted enough current that I was only blasted out of my shed, rather than thoroughly cooked. The machine is running as well as ever, and I am glad to note that its loss of power did not hinder the inexplicably perfect wifi signal._

_As I write this, Sburb is installing on my computer. Likewise, Plutarch is installing his own copy on what appears to be a miniaturized supercomputer that he procured from...somewhere. When I attempted to question him about it he just ignored me and pecked the insignia on the back of his device - an inverted silhouette of the Scotty Dog whose image appears on my own computer. Outside, the first meteors are falling from the clouds, and my architectural skills are highly unlikely to withstand the Reckoning. I can only hope that Plutarch and I make it in time._

_This may be my last entry._


	9. Chapter 9

Day 35:

_I write this entry looking out over the Land of Licorice and Frogs, having successfully entered the Medium. Plutarch went missing shortly after he gained entry, but I wasn't expecting much from him in the first place._

_He is, after all, a pigeon._

_ScottydogSprite has been rather insistent that I continue my quest, despite the fact that I only entered the Medium specifically to gain access to the Furthest Ring, and by extension, Hussie. I suppose, however, that it would not hurt to complete a few quest lines and climb further up the echeladder before I seek my final goal. More power can only help, after all._

_To this end I have begun manually alchemizing building blocks to reach the next portal in Plutarch's absence as a host player. I plan to eventually gain access to God Tier, and hopefully a legendary weapon or three to assist my epic quest. Upon ascension, I shall continue along my original path, come hell or high water._

_This may be my last entry._


	10. Chapter 10

Day 37:

_Today I alchemized myself a new Scotty Dog backpack, identical to the one I lost in the incident ten days ago. Now that I am aware of the dangers involved in owning such a powerful backpack, I will be careful not to repeat my past mistakes, and my food supply is secured._

_ScottydogSprite seems to be wary of such a powerful artifact. It is wise. Wiser than I was, when I was younger._

_Plutarch has yet to appear even once, and my architectural skills are being pushed to their limits in building this tower by hand. Without the structural stability guaranteed by a server player's construction tool I am forced to build carefully, and slowly. Twice, large alchemized building blocks nearly crushed me, falling from where I could almost swear I had not yet set them. What should normally take minutes with a server player has taken me hours to build by hand, but now I look over my planet from just below the Third Gate. From here, I can see Prospit and Skaia. I believe that Plutarch's planet, whatever it is, is in an orbit on the directly opposite side of Skaia from LoLaF. The view of his abandoned starting position simply shows the tree he was nesting in, atop a cliff that overlooks a dark red landscape. I cannot make out any details, but the scene disturbs me greatly._

_ScottydogSprite informs me that I shall soon begin the collection and breeding of frogs. I fully intend to see this session through, if only because of the dire consequences that I know come from dooming a timeline, but that doesn't mean I can't stall as long as possible while I level up._

_I believe the time has come for me to attempt to reach godtier._

_This may be my last entry._


	11. Chapter 11

Day 40:

_Today I reached godtier._

_Well, that isn't exactly correct. The right wording would be, 'today I was forcibly shoved into godtier'._

_I was standing next to my quest bed and considering the best way to off myself. I had just decided on a handgun when everything went black. Next thing I know I'm waking up on Prospit in full Mage of Space getup and a quarter of LoLaF is on fire._

_Sidenote: Burning licorice smells terrible._

_Using my newly awakened Space powers I was able to put out the fires, but now ScottydogSprite is missing and enough of my house was burned that the whole thing collapsed. My corpse was consumed in the blaze, and so I still have no idea what happened. From what I can tell this isn't Noir's work, he tended to go for stabbing. In fact, I don't think that Noir is even relevant in this session. I don't know what Plutarch prototyped, but it's not like there was anything dangerous enough to cause planetary incineration lying around._

_I have to breed the Genesis Frog, if I want the freedom to find Hussie. And that means that I'll have to stay on this planet just a little longer._

_This may be my last entry._


	12. Chapter 12

Day 43:

_This was a mistake. Attempting to rush Hussie was a mistake. Attempting to play Sburb was a bigger mistake. Contracting Plutarch as my second player was the worst mistake. I write this hiding among the remnants of LoLaF, after the implosion of the planet's core reduced it to so much delicious space debris._

_Plutarch, I now know, never intended to cooperate._

_The pigeon is a Theif of Time. What's more, he prototyped *himself*, right before going insane, murdering me, and prototyping himself with ScottydogSprite._

_PlutarchSprite^2 has apparently been seeking my demise all session. It explains the numerous inexpicable architectural failures, the immolation of LoLaF, and why I saw nothing of him so far. His class is Thief of Time, which he just used to steal the temporal motion from LoLaF's core._

_Just the core._

_As the rest of the planet kept moving, bound by the laws of inertia and motion in four dimensions, LoLaF's core remained frozen in time, and the entire planet ruptured under the stress. Ever since, I believe Plutarch's been gleefully abusing the time stolen to travel back through the timeline and stage the many, many murder attempts which I have so far avoided._

_This may be my last entry._


	13. Chapter 13

Day 48

_I think it's been 48 days, anyway. It's hard to keep track of the days when a murderous time travelling game construct is trying its damndest to rip your beating heart out._

_With chunks of LoLaF scattered across half the session, I think it's fair to say that the Genesis Frog won't be bred any time soon. It would take a lot of time to locate and realign all of the pieces, not to mention that doing anything too big will attract the murderpigeon._

_Speaking of which, I saw PlutarchSprite a few days ago. It was on a brief trip to his planet, which I now know is the Land of Fire and Corpses. Anyway, the thing seemed to have taken a break from attempted murder of past-me and had moved right on into timeline trolling. I got a glimpse of what I'm almost positive is a stolen copy of Hiveswap from the future before it saw me and I Spaced out of there faster than you can say "holy everliving fuck I'm about to be murdered by a time-traveling pigeon-dog"._

_Right now I'm hiding out on Derse, where the fear the Carapacians hold towards PlutarchSprite just edges out their dislike of me as a Prospit player. I think I'm going to have to enlist the aid of my dead selves among the Furthest Ring. Additional power won't do much, but I'm hoping that sheer volume of disposable decoys will slow PlutarchSprite down._

_This may be my last entry._


	14. Chapter 14

Day 51:

_Have finally reached the Furthest Ring, and the Dreambubbles that float therein. Or, what's left of them, what with the supermassive black hole slowly pulling fragments of reality to a point of infinite compression that takes up a large part of the local space._

_Not to put too fine a point on it, but this does negatively impact my plans for a ghost army._

_So far, I have only seen copies of myself present, infinite victims of a Time player's rampage. Not a single Plutarch ghost anywhere, which either means that the Alpha timeline requires him to die and that my death dooms the timeline, or that I'm screwed and Plutarch is an unstoppable force of nature._

_Neither option is very appealing._

_In any case, I've been gathering the few dead selves I could salvage. A few who died pre-entry, a surprising proportion of which died fighting the moose. Only seven so far managed to unlock their Aspect before they died, and trying to teach those that didn't is going nowhere._

_Ghost-me is pretty fucking stupid._

_The crowd of us (forty-two, now) are continuing to search for more ghosts. With any luck, I'll have a sizable amount of backup before Plutarch notices what I'm up to._

_This may be my last entry._


	15. Chapter 15

Day 58:

_I have succeeded in gathering a small army of about 100 ghost-selves. This number would be larger, but two days ago Number 95 challenged a rather large group of ghost-selves to a game of all-consuming-black-hole-chicken._

_I'm not sure if I've mentioned this yet, but my ghosts are *stupid*._

_In any case, about half of my-remaining-dead selves managed to acquire some form of Space powers before their untimely demises, and the other half, while incapable of acquiring any meaningfully new skills, will make good cannon fodder._

_My army and I are marching back to Skaia, gathering the scattered pieces of LoLaF in our wake. My powers, I have found, can only create space between things. I've taken the liberty of creating space between the pieces LoLaF and everything that isn't LoLaF. Slowly but surely, the shards of a planet are collecting around us. When we reach the time-frozen core, we will restore LoLaF to its rightful orbit around Skaia._

_And there we will do battle with a pigeon._

_This may be my last entry._


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The last three logs are all posted in a single chapter, mostly because none have pictures attached and without RR's illustrations it's a really small chapter.**

Day 65:

_Plutarch is dealt with, for the time being._

_As my ghost legion and I set LoLaF back into its orbit and all its scattered shards fit together into one whole, Plutarch tried to stop us._

_Key word being tried._

_We led him on a merry chase all the way around Skaia, losing all of the nonpowered ghosts and quite a few of the Godtiered ones as well. They disappated upon contact with PlutarchSprite^2's fiery talons, presumably vanishing back to their bubbles on the Furthest Ring. We were down to just twelve god-tier ghosts and myself by the time we reached the Land of Fire and Corpses, but that was more than enough for what we did next._

_Combining the powers of thirteen Magi of Space into a single super-fraymotif, I threw Plutarch's planet at him, then hyperaccelerated both planet and sprite so hard every single one of his past and future selves are going to feel it._

_Anyway, until such a time as he decelerates back to well below lightspeed, Plutarch is incapable of forming any sort of relativistic connection to time outside of himself, or really exist in any meaningful way at all. A blink of his beady pigeon eye will see aeons pass for myself. Thank you, time dilation._

_My surviving ghostselves and I are breeding Bilious Slick as I write this. A new universe shall be born, and I will then depart back to the Dreambubbles to hunt myself a Hussie._

_This may be my last entry._

Day 61:

_The day has finally come._

_Bilious Slick, Speaker of the Vast Croak, has glubbed a new universe into being. My task is fulfilled, and I am free from the constraints of Sburb's narrow tolerances. I am free to set out as I have intended for nearly three months now, to hunt down HiveSwap's creator and unleash his game upon the world._

_It seems like so long ago, that I sat in my room, sniping intruders with paperclips. My roommate stopped emailing me about the tapestries that he owned and I made into rope, presumably because the apocolypse takes precedence. I wonder how he's doing._

_As I fly ever further into the darkness of the Medium, it occurs that maybe I should have salvaged Plutarch's time-stolen copy of HiveSwap before I blasted his entire planet to relativistic speeds. In any case, it doesn't matter. Hussie cannot hide from me forever, and I will find him._

_This may be my last entry._

Day 224:

_I am victorious._

_This will be my last entry._


End file.
